


What Would It Take?

by alleinimmer



Series: How Did We Get Here? [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Endgame never happened, Gen, Helen Cho is tired of Tony's shit, Hurt Peter, Infinity War never happened, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, lots of swearing, other Avengers briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alleinimmer/pseuds/alleinimmer
Summary: Peter's still recovering from getting shot. But as he and Tony are about to discover, there's just one little problem...





	What Would It Take?

“Alright, Peter, you’re all set,” Dr. Cho said as she straightened up, draping her stethoscope across her shoulders and smiling kindly down at him. “Do you have any other questions for me about anything?”

Peter looked miserably over at the wheelchair that sat parked and waiting for him. “Do I have to?” 

“Yes.” Tony snapped loudly from across the room, scowling at Peter as he glanced up from his phone. “Did you not hear what she said about ‘overexerting yourself’ and “internal bleeding’? Oh, who am I kidding. Of course you didn’t. He has poor listening skills.” He called sarcastically to Dr. Cho, who merely rolled her eyes as she snaked her hands underneath Peter’s armpits. 

“No worse than yours, Mr. Stark.” She tossed back airly. “Alright, honey, on three. One...”

“Hey. Stay on topic. We’re talking about Peter’s lackluster ability to follow directions, not mine.” Mr. Stark said, glaring pointedly at Peter. “Here, I’ll put it simply for you, kid: you wanna leave the Medbay? Then you have to listen to the boss. And just so we’re abundantly clear, that’s Dr. Cho.”

“Two…”

“I thought you were the boss.” Peter mumbled petulantly, trying not to wince as Dr. Cho gently eased him to his feet and helped him into the wheelchair. His back and side twinged painfully as she lowered him down, but he bit his lip to keep from crying out. There was no way he was spending another night in the Tower’s medbay, suspended in a drug-induced haze while various machines beeped and hissed relentlessly amid the rotating parade of doctors and nurses who poked and prodded him every half hour. Nope. Peter had had enough.

“Hardly.” Tony scoffed as he pushed himself to his feet and quickly closed the distance between them. “I just pay for everything.” 

“Anything hurt, Peter?” Dr. Cho asked as she stepped back, looking him up and down while he tried not to squirm under her scrutinizing gaze. It wasn’t that anything hurt, per se...there were just certain positions that were unbearably uncomfortable and that he’d do pretty much anything possible to avoid, but come on, he’d just been shot two days ago - he was bound to still feel a little sore, right? Somehow, though, he didn’t think Dr. Cho or Mr. Stark would agree with him on that. 

“No.” He assured her, hoping she wouldn’t press him and knowing he’d fold immediately if she did. “I’m okay.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Cho regarded him silently for a moment longer before she shrugged. “Alright. Mr. Stark. A word, please.” She said simply, turning her attention to Tony, who had stationed himself at Peter’s side with his arms tightly crossed, watching him closely. Peter didn’t dare look up at him. He knew Tony didn’t quite believe that he was as ‘fine’ as he claimed to be, and was looking for just about any excuse he could find to shut down his discharge from medbay. Why he was even going along with it to begin with, Peter had no idea. Maybe he had finally gotten sick of listening to Peter whine throughout the entirety of his every waking moment. 

The last few days had been...odd... to say the least. From what he had been told, Tony had been with him from the moment he had first woken up from surgery two nights ago, though Peter honestly didn’t remember much about that - the first few hazy memories he had were ones filled with blinding agony and pathetic whimpering, and Tony shouting, his words jumbled and confusing, only for it all to disappear again as a wave of darkness suddenly swallowed him up. The next time he resurfaced, the world was a little sharper, a little clearer, a little more manageable, and eventually, things had begun to make sense again. But even as Peter continued to improve, Tony seemed more on edge than ever. 

Peter watched Tony warily as he sauntered across the room behind Dr. Cho, who didn’t spare him so much as a glance until just before he disappeared out the door. “Hey. Be good.” Tony said, pointing accusingly at Peter with a glare. “No eavesdropping. Super-hearing or not, it’s just rude.”

“It’s not like I can help it!” Peter called after him, but Tony ignored him, and a moment later, Peter was suddenly left alone with only his thoughts. Peter huffed after them, annoyed that they were very clearly discussing him and weren’t even trying to be discreet about it. He was so tired of Mr. Stark treating him like a kid. He was tired of trying so hard to prove to Mr. Stark that he was ready and willing for far more than what everyone else seemed to think he was capable of - what was it going to take for Mr. Stark to finally see that? He had already taken a bullet...and before that he’d taken down a plane with nothing but a pair of ratty sweats and his own bare hands...was it really so much to ask that someone tell him he wasn’t completely out of his mind? That what he was doing actually made a difference and mattered? That there was someone out there who was proud of him and what he was doing? Peter bit his lip as hot, bitter tears sprang to his eyes, and he swiped impatiently at them, angry and appalled of himself. Maybe the fact of the matter was that he didn’t deserve any of that. Maybe...maybe that nagging little voice that told him he was wasting his time, that what he was doing was pointless...that Ben would be ashamed of him and that what he was doing didn’t make up for the fact that his uncle was dead because of him...was right. Peter released a shuddering breath. It was times like this that he really, really missed Ben. That he wanted nothing more than for the chance to speak with him just one more time. Just to see him again...just to talk with him once more...to tell him he was sorry.

Peter was so wrapped up in his own misery that he didn’t even register the sound of hinges creaking and a door swinging gently closed. In fact it wasn’t until he actually heard Dr. Cho and Mr. Stark’s hushed voices that he even realized that he was listening to something he shouldn’t be. And he tried to tune them out, he really did. But...

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 

“Why does everyone always ask me that? Look, I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times - contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

“I really, really don’t think you do.”

“Well, I really, really don’t appreciate your lack of confidence in me...but just to be clear, what exactly do I not know what I’m doing?”

“Peter! Tony, you’re about to leave with a kid! Do you not understand that?! You are going to be responsible for a severely injured child, a child who is going to be completely dependent on you for the next twenty-four hours - are you prepared for that? Or not? Because if you’re not one hundred percent on board, I can’t let you take him.”

“You said it yourself that he’s only allowed up to go to the bathroom, and as far as I know, he’s potty-trained. How hard can it possibly be?”

“Tony, you can’t just stick him in a room and say ‘Hope you feel better kid, bye’. You actually have to be around in case he needs you. You have to make sure he’s okay. Maybe feed him every now and then even?”

“He’s fifteen, Cho, not two. He’s perfectly capable of telling me if something’s wrong or if he needs anything.”

“I see how he is around you -that boy worships the ground you walk on, Tony. I have a hard time believing that he’d ask you for a sandwich, much less tell you if there was something seriously wrong.”

“Which is precisely why I’ve got the world’s most advanced AI on standby to let me know the second he needs anything. Whether he’s willing to admit it or not.”

“You’re using a computer to take care of him? That’s great. Why didn’t you say so earlier? That changes everything.” Dr. Cho told him, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

“FRIDAY is just backup.” Tony snapped back. “For when I think the kid is lying. He does that a lot too, you know.” 

Dr. Cho just heaved a sigh, which was closely followed by a strange rattling noise. “Fine. Here - you’re gonna need these.” 

“These Cap’s pain pills?”

“It’s the best I could manage, given his metabolism. But, Tony, you should know - it’s hardly a perfect match.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Peter and Captain Rogers’ metabolisms are similar, but Peter’s is definitely faster - almost twice as fast, in fact.”

“Okay, so what, we just need to double the dose?”

“I said ‘almost’, Tony. It’s almost twice as fast, but not exactly. Doubling it would be too much - we’d risk organ damage and God only knows what other kinds of complications.”

“Jesus, Cho, then just what the hell have you been pumping him with the last two days?!”

“The same stuff.” She assured him. “But I’ve had the best medical equipment in the world constantly monitoring his blood and helping me calculate the dosage he needed at any given moment. The first sign that the drug was wearing off and I would know immediately and how much to give him.” There was another reluctant pause. “Tony, I tried to keep track-I tried making a log of how often I had to adjust his meds and the amount he needed. I even had FRIDAY run every algorithm available to try and figure out a pattern, but...Tony, there just isn’t one.”

“Cho, come on, that’s impossible -”

“You think I don’t know that? We’re talking about metabolism for Christ’s sake, not magic. There has to be a pattern, or at least there should be, but the only data I have on it is from the last two days, and that’s been nothing short of erratic.”

“But why? That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I’m not sure, but as far as I can tell, Peter’s metabolism seems to be directly linked with his healing factor. I think that normally, it would be more stable, but with Peter’s body working overtime to try and fix itself, it’s thrown everything off balance.”

“Okay.” Tony said slowly. “So where does that leave us?”

Dr. Cho sighed again. “We can try as best we can to keep Peter comfortable while he’s still healing...but, we have no way of knowing or even predicting how much he’ll need and when. I can only give you a rough idea of what to give him...and I’d rather under-medicate him and risk him being in pain than the alternative.”

“Great.”

“Exactly. So do you still think you can handle taking care of him? Or would you rather pawn him off to someone a little more capable?”

Tony didn’t answer her for a moment, and Peter held his breath, waiting for Tony to tell her yes, to beg her to find someone else, anyone else, to take him off his hands. But then -

“Kid doesn’t have anyone else. Fury won’t let him leave until you’ve cleared him, and he’s got me feeding the aunt some bullshit story while he’s recovering. Which means he’s stuck here...and I’m all he’s got.” Tony said at long last. “Besides, this is my fault. I owe it to him.” There was another pause, much shorter this time. “So how many of these things do I give him?”

“One tablet every two hours. One before bed, but nothing through the night. If that’s not enough, you come get me. Don’t give him any more yourself, you understand?”

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I am perfectly capable of following basic instructions.”

“So you admit you can, you just choose not to.” She answered cooly. A pause. “Keep an eye on him, Tony. And there’s anything wrong, anything at all, just let me know, okay?” 

“You got it, boss.” 

“And for the record, Tony? None of this was your fault.”

“...You should really stick to what you actually know, doc - fixing SHIELD’s broken toy soldiers. You’re much better at that.” Was all Tony said in response, and a moment later, Peter heard the door creak open again, closely followed by the sound of Mr. Stark’s approaching footsteps.

Peter tried to quickly rearrange his face so that he looked tired and bored, but he didn’t have much faith in himself - Mr. Stark did, after all, like to remind him every chance he got what a terrible liar he was, and he was sure he had to look guilty, given what he had just heard. So he tucked his head down and played with one of the fraying letters of his MIT sweatshirt, hoping in the very least that if Mr. Stark couldn’t get a good look at his face, he wouldn’t immediately know that he had heard everything. When he heard the finally door open again, spared the man a quick glance, trying to gauge his mood without betraying himself. But for how frustrated Mr. Stark had sounded a minute before, no one would ever know it now...not that he gave Peter the chance to be too jealous of that for long.

“Alright. Ready to roll, kid?” Mr. Stark said with a smirk, grabbing the handles of his wheelchair and laughing when Peter scowled up at him, arms crossed angrily over his chest. Because really, what else could he do?

\--------------

His room was pitch dark when he awoke, and cold, but Peter could see just fine when he suddenly found himself blinking confusedly up at his ceiling. By some deep instinct, he knew it was very late at night, and a quick glance at the holographic clock at his bedside confirmed that it was just past four in the morning. It didn’t take long for Peter to realize just what had woken him as a vague and throbbing pain began to wash over him from all fronts, which finally settled somewhere deep in his back. Frowning, Peter shifted slightly, hoping that the pain would fade if he found a more comfortable position, but the moment he started moving, the pain exploded from somewhat aggravating and barely there, to all-consuming, sharp, and shooting. It was so sudden and so unexpected, that Peter couldn’t help but gasp aloud before quickly slamming his teeth into his lip, and abandoning the idea of moving any further. Instead, he allowed his body to slump back bonelessly, and it took everything he had not to sigh in relief as the pain gradually began to recede back. But it didn’t disappear completely, nor did it fade to the same degree it had been before he tried to move, when it had been nothing more than an annoying twinge. What was happening? He couldn’t remember being in this much pain the entire time he had been in medbay, or even in the past few hours after he had been discharged. He’d been...

The realization hit him hard and fast, and the horror that soon followed was just as strong. The pills-the painkillers that Dr. Cho had given Mr. Stark...hadn’t he had heard her say that they weren’t perfectly calibrated for his metabolism? That they were making do with the best they had? Oh god. Oh, god it had been hours since he had taken one. If they were just starting to wear off...and this was how he felt now...

Peter swallowed, and he tasted bile. The pain was only going to get worse from here. Hell, in the last few minutes it had grown exponentially. And he didn’t have his pills. Mr. Stark had kept them...which meant the only way to make the pain go away was to have FRIDAY call him down...No. Absolutely not. He wasn’t going to wake Mr. Stark up in the middle of the night for this. He could tough it out till morning. He just had to fall back asleep before the pain started to get too bad. He could do that. He could definitely do that. 

And he had every intention to. But no matter how hard he tried, Peter couldn’t will himself to fall back to sleep, not when with each passing second, the pain only intensified, and it wasn’t long at all before it was drowning him, pulling him in, holding him pinned and helpless on his bed. Loud, shuddering breaths rattled from deep in his throat, and his hands had somehow twisted themselves around his blankets, scrambling for purchase. The all-consuming agony was licking him like fire, and he bit his lip so hard that he could taste copper and iron. It’s worth it though, swallowing his own blood, if it means he can choke back his own screams in the same breath. If that’s what he has to do to stay quiet, then fine. He can handle it. He knows he can...and yet, somehow, with each passing moment, the pain only worsens, and just when he thought he'd no longer be able to keep quiet, FRIDAY's voice fills the room.

"Peter, you appear to be in significant distress. Should I alert Mr. Stark?"

"N-no!" He gasped out, chest heaving and eyes burning. "No, FRIDAY, I'm fine!"

“Impressive, Peter. It would seem that you and Boss not only have the same definition of ‘self-preservation’, but 'fine' as well." FRIDAY said bitingly. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

"Please, FRIDAY," He begged her, "Please, don't tell him! Really, I’m fine!"

For a moment, she didn’t answer him, and foolishly, Peter thought he actually managed to convince her to keep quiet for him. But then..."I'm sorry, Peter. But based on your behavior and your vital readings, I am required to inform Mr. Stark. It's protocol."

Peter wanted to argue with her. Wanted to convince her that he was strong and that he could hold his own. That Mr. Stark could be proud of him…and more than anything, he wanted to believe it for himself. But he couldn’t. The pain had gotten so bad that he couldn’t hold back any more, and despite his best efforts, the tears he had been fighting so hard to contain finally spilled over and fell. His chest heaved and his body jerked as he swallowed his sobs, hating the feeling of his tears pooling in his ears, but hating the loud, wet gasps that punctuated the stillness far more. Distantly, he could hear FRIDAY talking to him, soft and gentle, almost like she was trying to comfort him, but he couldn't focus on what she was saying.

Peter wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, but it felt like it had been forever when he heard his door finally creep open, and a thin beam of light pierced the darkness so suddenly and so brightly that Peter couldn’t help but shout, slamming his eyes shut and jerking his head back, trying to get as far from the unbearably bright, burning light as possible. He heard someone curse. "Shit, FRIDAY, turn that off!" 

Almost immediately, the lights from the hall just outside his door were cut off, and Peter was once again plunged into merciful darkness. But with his senses already buzzing and raw from overwhelming agony, the sudden, unexpected light plucked him like an exposed nerve, shattering what little hold he had over himself, and the dam finally broke. A loud sob erupted from amid his breathless, choking gasps, and he was powerless to stop the others that soon followed. And just above his own miserable cries, he could hear a litany of curses. "Shit, shit, shit! Kid, talk to me! What's wrong?!"

Peter was vaguely aware that Tony was getting closer, could hear his heart hammering wildly, louder and louder as he approached, and before long, he felt Tony’s hands hovering over him uncertainly, almost as though he were afraid to touch him. "Peter, please!" Mr. Stark begged him, "Please, just tell me what's wrong!"

"H-Hurts!" Peter managed. 

"What hurts?! Your stomach?"

"Ev-ry-thing!" Peter cried out between gasps. 

Tony cursed again, and Peter continued to cry. He wanted to curl up, but the spasms that were shooting up his back and settling deep in his muscles and bones told him it wasn't a good idea. So he could only lay there, miserable and all but paralyzed from the neck down, every muscle seized and rigid while his back throbbed torturously. He could vaguely hear Tony ordering FRIDAY to do...something - call someone, maybe? - before the bed dipped down beside him, and Tony's lined and terrified face filled his view. 

"Peter?" He said hesitatingly, obviously trying to stay calm as one hand brushed against one of Peter's clenched fists. "You're alright. Dr. Cho’s coming, okay? She's coming right now. She's going to make it better. Just...please, buddy, please stop crying."

Peter nodded forcefully, trying to get a hold of himself as Tony's thumb stroked the back of his hand, the rough pad skimming over his knuckles. He wanted so bad to beg Tony to help him, to make it stop, like a child, but he figured he had embarrassed himself enough for one night. 

"Kinda awkward just sitting here in the dark, don’t you think, bud?” Tony asked him. “Think we can do something about that?” Peter's only answer was a single, loud sob, but Tony pressed him, his free hand prying Peter's fingers from the sheets and gripping that one tightly too. "Come on, kiddo. Dr. Cho can't help you if you won't let her."

Peter bit his lip again, but managed to nod. Tony sighed in relief and squeezed his hands. "Alright. FRI, lights to 10%."

Peter kept his eyes closed as the darkness was gently washed away. He hurt enough without his own senses turning against him too. Not to mention, just the thought of having to face Tony like this was too much to bear. 

"Aw, kid," He heard Tony sigh once he finally caught a good look at his face. Peter knew he had to look bad - his shirt was wet and clinging to his heaving chest and under his armpits, and his hair curling and slick against his scalp. His face felt hot and sticky, covered no doubt in not only his own snot and tears, but his own blood as well now, what with him continuing to literally bite back his sobs. "It’s alright. Buddy, come on...come on, you’re alright. Just-just deep breaths, and...and...God, kid. I don't know how to help you. I'm sorry - I'm not good at this." 

Peter wanted to answer him - wanted to reassure him that he was good at it and to not be so hard on himself. But he couldn't get the words to form around his clenched teeth, so he settled for just shaking his head, hoping Tony would understand. 

Time seemed to stretch tortuously long before Dr. Cho finally made it to Peter's room. 

"Tony? What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" Peter flinched as Tony's voice exploded from him suddenly, high-pitched and borderline hysterical. "I don't know, just fix it! Please, just make him stop crying!"

Peter didn't think there was ever a time he was more ashamed of himself than right now. Laid up in the Avenger's tower, blubbering pathetically like a baby in the middle of the night while Tony begged him to stop...yep, he was pretty sure it couldn’t possibly get any worse than this. How was he ever gonna live this down? How was he ever supposed to look Tony in the eye again? Tony already thought he was in way over his head on his best days - he didn’t even want to think what he must have thought of him now. But he could certainly guess after he heard Dr. Cho say something and Tony practically leapt from the bed, dropping Peter's hands as he did like they were a hot poker. 

"Peter? Honey?" He could hear Dr. Cho talking to him. She sounded close by. Her heartbeat sounded close too. Steadier than Tony's, but faster than what it typically sounded like. "I'm gonna take a look at you to figure out what's wrong, okay? I just need you to answer some questions for me first."

"Okay." Peter panted.

"Alright. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I just told you, he said everything hurts!"

"I need to hear it from Peter, Tony," Dr. Cho snapped back. “In his own words.”

"My stomach hurts," Peter told her dragging his eyes open. "And my back. My-my back really hurts."

"Hurts how? Is it dull and throbbing? Or is more stabbing?"

"St-stabbing." He flinched when he felt Dr. Cho's hands gently take his wrist to check his pulse.

"Did the pain wake you up?" 

"Yeah," He croaked, wincing as Dr. Cho slid his shirt up, the cold surface of her stethoscope pressing down against his chest. 

"Have you gone to the bathroom since we brought you up here, Peter?"

"Y-yeah," Peter told her, feeling his face flush at the admission. 

“And did it hurt to go?”

“A little,” he admitted unwillingly, wanting nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Worse than when we first took the catheter out?” She asked him, and by her tone he could easily imagine that she was raising a concerned eyebrow.

“No,” Peter assured her, keeping his gaze fixed very pointedly away and praying to God he didn’t have to look either her or Tony in the eye anytime soon. “That part’s getting better.”

“Did you notice if your urine was red? Or pink?"

"No, it was normal."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I'm gonna roll you on your side, now, sweetheart. I just need to listen to your lungs and make sure everything's okay.”

"N-no." Peter begged her, his voice catching with a sob, knowing how painful it would be the moment Dr. Cho moved him. 

"Peter, I have to."

"No," He said more firmly.

"Come on, kid," Tony spoke up. "She'll be quick. The sooner she knows what's wrong, the sooner she can help you."

Peter began to cry in earnest again, a part of him hating himself for losing it again in front of not only Dr. Cho, but Tony too, but the other part of him too miserable and in pain to care. He wanted to go home. He wanted May.

"Come on," Dr. Cho encouraged him gently, and he felt her small hands grip his shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly. "Tony, why don’t you come here and help him?"

"And how exactly do you define ‘help’?" Tony sounded...reluctant. Like he wanted nothing to do with anything that was going on. Like he didn't want to be here and like he certainly didn't want to help. 

"Just hold his hand." A pause, and Dr. Cho released a harsh breath from her nose, clearly exasperated. "For God's sake, Tony, just do it."

Peter heard Tony heave a soft sigh before he dragged himself over to Peter’s side, but he made no move to take Peter's hand. And, as much as Peter wished he would, he didn't hold it against him. It wasn’t like Tony owed it to him or anything. If nothing else, it was Peter who had been racketing up his tab since the day they'd met.

As gently as she could, Dr. Cho gripped Peter’s shoulders, and though he knew it was going to hurt, that it was going to be excruciating, he couldn’t stop himself from screaming as soon as Dr. Cho began to roll him on his side. Peter felt Tony jerk beside him, hands scrambling to seize his as Dr. Cho finally settled him. He could hear Tony cursing to himself under his breath, and Peter knew he should be quiet. He knew it was late at night and people were trying to sleep and he was making Tony nervous. But he couldn’t help it. The pain had reached an unbearable level and he was exhausted and scared and just wanted it to stop, and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was lay there and wail as Cho continued to press against his barely healed wound, her icy fingers zigzagging across Peter's shoulders as his body shuddered beneath them. He thought he could hear footsteps pounding down the hall, and the vague, almost distant sounds of raised voices, and then suddenly his door burst open, slamming against the wall.

"Jesus Christ, what is that noise?!"

"Are we under attack?!"

"Tony, what the hell is going on-?!"

"Get out!" Tony screamed. 

"What are you doing to him?! What's wrong with him?!"

"I said get out! FRIDAY! Get the door! Soundproof the room!" 

The additional voices were abruptly cut off, and soon, the only sounds Peter could hear were his own hitching breaths, and his and Tony’s rapid, racing hearts. Dr. Cho's was, somehow, still steady and calm in comparison. She ignored him as he hiccupped underneath her hands, frowning slightly as she paused and prodded at him. And eventually, the sharp, shooting pains that had seized him from the moment Dr. Cho first moved him died down to a dull, stabbing sensation that drummed against his back. He could work with that - he’d been stabbed before. Huh...man, he never realized how sad that was, the fact that he had actually gotten used to the feeling of behind stabbed. To all of it, really. To broken bones and bad sprains. To falling several stories and landing on unforgiving concrete. But he had done all that before, and survived, and this was nothing new. He shook his head, burrowing his face against his pillow as he fought to block everything out, to get control over himself.  
It took a few moments, but Peter eventually managed to find his voice. "S-sorry," He gasped, and he felt Tony stiffen minutely, fingers tightening around his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...you...”

"Kid, remind again what I’ve said about unnecessary apologies? I know I’ve told you about a thousand times how I feel about them.”

"No, please.” Peter begged him. “Please just listen to me.”

"Peter - it’s fine. Really." Tony sighed. He sounded...sad? Why did he sound sad? Maybe he was just disappointed. "You don't have to be sorry."

"But you didn’t ask for this." He felt his throat closing, and he swallowed hard. He would not cry. He would not cry. He had already woken Tony and Dr. Cho, and apparently the entire team, had screamed and cried and demanded Tony hold his hand when he knew how much Tony hated that sort of thing. "You didn't ask to deal with me."

Neither Tony nor Dr. Cho spoke, and Peter, eyes shut tight and lost in his own exhausted misery, failed to notice the look that Dr. Cho gave Tony, or the heaviness that settled around them all. He heard Tony sigh, and felt his fingers squeeze his hand ever so slightly, but Tony didn't tell him he was wrong. And in the end, it was Dr. Cho who broke the awkward silence.

"You're alright, Peter," She told him quietly. "There's no sign of any internal bleeding or new damage to your back or kidneys. Your pain meds just wore off a little faster than I thought they would."

"So quick fix, right?" Tony asked. "Just pump him up with more?"

"Basically, yeah. Quick shot of Steve's sedatives and he should get through the rest of the night just fine." Peter heard something shift, and a zipper being pulled. "Peter? Did you hear me? I'm going to give you an injection, okay? It's just going to hurt for a second and then you can go back to sleep."

"Okay,” Peter mumbled. He didn't care about the shot. He was so tired and so sick of the pain that he would happily take any shot, pill, what have you to make it go away and go back to bed. While Dr. Cho prepared the needle, Tony had released his hand and stepped back. Peter's eyes opened to half slits, and he found Tony not too far away, face drained of color and looking at his wit's end. Peter watched him for a moment, wondering why he was bothering to stick around, and then addressed him again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

Tony sighed. "Stop apologizing, kid. You’re killing me."

"Alright, Peter, here we go," Dr. Cho announced, and Peter couldn't help but flinch when he felt an ice cold, alcohol-soaked cotton ball brush against his arm, almost immediately followed by the pinch of the needle. Peter slammed his eyes shut again and managed to hold back a whimper as Dr. Cho depressed the plunger, which took far too long, in his opinion. And then suddenly, it was gone, and Dr. Cho was pressing what felt like a bandage against his arm. 

"There. There you go, sweetheart." She told him kindly. "You'll feel better in a minute.”

"Alright, he's good now? He's gonna go back to sleep?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be too much longer..."

And that was the last thing Peter heard just before the pain finally began to recede like waves at low tide, and the darkness began to carry him away once more. It was just before he drifted off completely that he had one last burst of clarity, and with it, a single tear crept down his cheek, only to be brushed away by rough fingers a moment later. How was he ever going to convince Mr. Stark to take him seriously now?

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. It was a bitch to edit.
> 
> So, I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out. I'm going to be taking a break from posting for a while. There's a lot going on in my life right now.


End file.
